


Don't Try Me

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [44]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, jack is an annoying older brother, race is just tired, spot is an annoying bf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 05:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Race would give the shirt off his back to a newsie if they needed it, and some people don't think that's an awfully good trait





	Don't Try Me

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again because sometimes that just be the Way,, yknow???

“Race!”

Race, ignoring the call, walked faster and tried his best to keep his head down as he zigzagged between some of the few people left on the street at this hour. 

“Hey, I know ya can hear me.”

That was true, and Race also heard the pounding footsteps as his annoying yeller of an older brother started running to try and catch up with him. A hand on his shoulder pushing him off the sidewalk into the alley was what finally got him to turn around and force a surprised look.

“Jackie?” he asked innocently, taking a few steps back from Jack’s gaze and leaning against the wall opposite him. “Didn’t hear ya.”

A little out of breath, Jack shot Race a look. “Bull.”

Race shrugged, not giving him anything except a look up and down and hum. “Did you need somethin’?”

He felt a little satisfaction when Jack nearly  _ growled  _ when he clawed his hands, frustrated. “Yeah dumbass, I do, that’s why I had to drag you into the fuckin’ alley-”

“Language,” Race said in a singsong, ignoring Jack’s growing annoyance in favor of looking up at the darkening sky. “We oughta get back soon, it’s gettin’ late.”

“Stop dodgin’ my question.”

“You ain’t asked me nothin’ yet.”

Jack took a deep breath then, mumbling to himself before looking hard at Race. “I ain’t blind y’know, I can see what you’se been doin’.”

Race knew what Jack was talking about, but he schooled his features and acted confused anyway; this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have right now. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t lie,” Jack bit out. He was never one to hold back or try and lie, it was why he was shit at cards. “You’ve been sellin’ less and less everyday, and been stayin’ out ‘til most everyone’s asleep, you think I don’t know why.”

“Sellin’s harder once the weather turns, I gotta stay out later-”

“No,” Jack cut in, forcefully, “you’ve been sellin’ for years, you’se stayin’ out to try and sneak back in without anyone houndin’ ya over not eatin’, or sleepin’ for that matter, and me and a bunch of other guys know.”

“There ain’t nobody at lodge that can prove that.”

He’d shot back too fast and too angrily, and he could see the smugness on Jack’s face as he gave himself away.

“We don’t need to prove it, you’se doin’ that yourself everyday.”

Race, who was admittedly dead tired and unable to remember his last real meal, stayed tense and stone-faced. Jack was right, and he knew he was, but he wasn’t Race’s  _ mother _ . What he did was his business and his business only.

“Whatever Jackie, I’m doin’ what I’m doin’ and there ain’t no way you can look at me and say it ain’t helpin’ out the kids.”

There was an edge in his voice, but it still shook, and Jack’s shoulders dropped as his face turned more sympathetic. “It ain’t your job to look out from them alone, hell,  _ you’re _ still a kid-”

“That’s rich,” Race spat. A part of him knew he was overreacted and Jack was just worried about him, but another part of him was tired and angry and didn’t need anyone telling him what to do, and that part was winning. “You’d rather have five or sick little kids go to bed cold and hungry, and probably get  _ sick _ , than me skip a meal now and then? Really, Jack?”

That was a cheap shot, and they both knew it. Jack’s face fell into a look or more or less disappointment though, and Race felt a bit of a sting.

“Come after me all ya want, Race,” Jack said after a moment of looking him down, “I don’t quit on  _ family  _ just because they wanna play martyr.”

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“It means you either stop killin’ yourself over nothin’, or you sell with me and Davey in Manhattan ‘til ya do.”

A childish anger rose up in Race’s chest, and instead of coming back with some insult he stormed off, leaving Jack in the alley and rounding the corner with a pace his tired feet could barely keep up with. There weren’t any footsteps following him, and he didn’t know whether that was a good or bad thing.

* * *

 

Jack hadn’t been lying about other guys worrying about him too, the night before when he’d stomped up to the bunk room he practically had to fight off Albert and Crutchie, who’d tried to coax him into eating with them when he’d walked up.

In a bit of misguided defiance, he’d skipped dinner altogether, heading right to his bunk and feigning sleep when he heard Jack arrive. 

And he  _ hated  _ being mad at Jack, the guy was too nice for his own good. He’d thrown Race’s blanket over him before heading up to his penthouse, and Race had fallen asleep struggling to keep the anger.

It wasn’t that hard the next morning.

“What’s it gonna be, kid?” Jack asked, perched on the foot of Race’s bed, tossing a roll up in the air as Race sat up. “Wanna spend a day back home? Davey’d be awful glad to have ya.”

Race had glared, having hoped Jack would drop his ultimatum but knowing deep down he wouldn’t. “Just gimme the damn thing.”

Jack grinned and tossed Race the roll, not moving once Race caught it. Instead he just stared at him expectantly, crossing his arms and leaning back when Race took a bite.

“Happy?” he asked, swallowing and forcing another bite as he got up and pulled on his shoes. “Wanna watch me breathe, too? Make sure I ain’t slackin’ on that?”

“Don’t think I won't."

Not even bothering to hang around, Race changed quickly, leaving the bunk room to get a head start at distribution, and more importantly a moment away from Jack and the other five or so pairs of eyes that had been glued to him since he woke up.

And again, he hated being mad at Jack, on top of being nice he was almost always right. With the food Race did feel steadier on his feet. He didn’t need to be mothered though.

By the time the rest of the boys lined up to buy their papes, he was halfway across the bridge with his stack, smoking angrily and shouting out a phony headline.

* * *

 

“Jesus Christ, not you too?”

Race had barely gotten three steps off the bridge before Spot had appeared at his side, giving him that same damn look Jack had the night before. He should’ve known they talked. 

“Cut it out with the attitude, princesa,” Spot said, stepping in front of Race to stop him from walking. “You don’t live here.”

“Spend as much time here as in Manhattan, and quit it with the nicknames,” Race shot back, but it was lighter than with Jack. He never got any pity from Spot in the way he could feel it from Jack, and it made it easier. “I’m fine.”

Spot didn’t believe him at all, and it showed on his face. “Y’know, he’s just lookin’ out for ya, lotta guys don’t got that.”

He was talking about Jack, and Race knew he was right. Spot rarely took the slightly less bitten tone he was using with him, too, so he let himself put his guard down for the moment.

“I know that,” he admitted, shifting on his feet and looking behind himself like Jack might suddenly walk up. “I just don’t like him pullin’ some father shit on me, I’m just tryin’ to help out with the little ones.”

“Yeah but that ain’t all on you to do that,” Spot said, “never has been.”

That last bit Spot threw in was because this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, and him acknowledging that was the closest he would ever get to being sentimental.

The anger had faded with that, too, and Race let out a sigh and rocked back on his heels. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good, so don’t tell Jack that I ain’t ever done him a favor, okay?”

Spot clapped Race on the shoulder before pushing him along in the direction of the tracks. He wasn't one to talk about anything more than needed, and they both dropped the subject after that. The air between them was settled and normal again and they were both content with it. 

“Oh, and he said if ya seem too tired I’m supposed ta hold ya back and make ya sleep here.”

“Have fun with that one.”

“I sure as hell will, don’t try me.”

**Author's Note:**

> ayyy i feel like my recent writing has lacked substance but i hope this has a little more??? idk???
> 
> b u t i hope u enjoyed,, blease leave kudos/comments if u did bc they Fuel Me <3


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